Kylie Hagmann
As I walked through the park one day, you took me. Not in a bad way. You looked across the way from the opposite side of the path I was on, through the trees, the flowers, and the lush grass and you took me. You did it in a way that I had never felt before because when you took me, I took you too. When our eyes met, I knew exactly what would happen. We would walk to each other and our hands would brush as you stepped past me. I would turn around at the same time as you and we would be taken aback by each other. You would invite me to walk with you and I would accept. We would keep finding ways to touch each other as we walked slowly, languorously through the park – me touching your arm to emphasize something you said, you brushing my hand to point out a beautiful, sweet-smelling summer tree up ahead. We would sit underneath the tree when we reached it and we would start discussing all of our favorite things with so much passion that it would be hard to contain my joy. Your laugh would swell beneath the branches and it would make me unbelievably happy. It would get hotter. You would tell me about your family, and I would be astounded at the brightness you possessed. We would walk on through the park, and then out of it, down the streets of the city, people rushing past us, their faces tan, and some sticky with a sheen of sweat from the blazing sun. We would stop to get lunch at a small restaurant, and you would offer to pay. I would discuss my work with the women’s movement, and you would agree to go with me to the march soon. When we get up to leave after finishing lunch, you would ask to see me again tonight. I would joke about you not being able to wait to see me until tomorrow and you would very seriously reply that you could not. I would glance up and we would take each other.
We have never taken each other though. This is because, fuck, you are not real. You are in my head. I have never felt anyone’s touch. I wish I could tell someone what I want. You would listen to me, wouldn’t you? I pull my white sheets away from my body, get ready and put on a sweater and jeans. I step into the cold winter air. When I arrive at Central Park, I walk down the snow dusted paths. There are only a few people out. I don’t see you. I keep walking, but you are never where I think you will be. I am wondering when it will happen. I wish it would because I don’t want to be lonely right now. It is cold and I cannot keep myself warm anymore.